


School Murder

by willowmellontree



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - High School, Crushes, Drunkenness, Insults, M/M, Murder, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Sheakspeare quote, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Teen John Watson, Teen Sherlock, Teenlock, mentions of abuse, mentions of drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-02-10 12:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18660190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowmellontree/pseuds/willowmellontree
Summary: John Watson (year 11) meets Sherlock Holmes (year 9) whilst an investigation about a dead student is taking place...





	1. Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT OWN THIS.

**Sherlock.**

John Watson was throwing his P.E kit into his locker when he heard the fire alarm go off.  He started to follow the convoy of the other students, down to the field, when he noticed a tall, black curly-haired boy was sneaking off the other way.

John was a senior Prefect it was his job to make sure everyone was following the rules, so he followed him. He followed him until they were on the other side of the school and there was a lot of police and teachers around. John lost sight of the boy so he was about to go back to where he needed to be.

"Why did you follow me?" Asked the boy, who john noticed had bright greeny-blue eyes.

"I um. You're supposed to be on the field with everyone else. There could be a fire." John said uncertainly.

"You know there isn't fire because of the number of people still left in the building. You realised that long before you got here but you didn't turn back on yourself. You also didn't call to me at the beginning because you wanted to know what was going on." The boy said.

John stumbled back a little. "Ok. Who are you?"

"Sherlock Holmes." 

They shook hands.

"Right, yes. Im John Watson." John said.

"Yes, I know that. I'd say 16, just had P.E. Wants to be in the army. Interested in mysteries, and Gay." Sherlock said.

"Im not Gay." John defended himself. 

"That's what they all say." He retorted. "About this investigation, what do you think about it?"

John thought for a minute. "Well, we've established it's not a fire. Nobody is Ill or we wouldn't have been called to the field. I have no bloody idea."

Sherlock smiled. "For a prefect, you're braking a lot of rules. But you're stating the obvious and not the facts. It's a Killing."

"What. School is supposed to be safe." John exclaimed.

"So's the earth. We need to get a closer look. Maybe after school." The black-haired boy said.

"We?" John said confused.

Sherlock looked him in the eye. "Telling from the sudden energy rush and that you have French next, You're definitely coming."

"How could you tell?"

"You have a gleam in your eyes as soon as I said killing. In your pocket, you've stuffed your french Homework in it. If you liked the subject, it would be neatly folded and if you had something else next, it would be in your bag." Sherlock said.

"Brilliant. You're how old?" John asked.

"Just turned 14." Sherlock peered at John weirdly. 

"What's wrong," John asked.

"No one's said that to me before?"

John gasped. "What. But even most off the best-trained people couldn't do what you did. It was Bloody amazing."

"Im flattered, but most people would have the sense not to talk to a sociopath." Sherlock gave a sad smile.

"Don't talk like that about yourself. Of course, people would talk to you." John said softly.

"Yeah, but you've never seen me before. I hide away because they call me a freak. Ive been here three years but I bet not even the teachers know im part of this school." Sherlock said.

"I noticed. Im sorry its three years late, but I have a feeling we're going to enjoy this." 

Sherlock actually gave a real smile. The end of the day bell went and John looked at his watch. "We've been here two hours already."

"It gave me a lot of time to think. I have a mind house but it's getting to full. I need a mind palace. That should last until im 40." Sherlock explained.

"Well, it's more then I've got," John confessed. 

"Yes. It's more than most people have. I think we should make our move now." Sherlock said while moving out of their hiding spot, John followed.

 

 

 

    


	2. Deserted body.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody except for a police inspector is looking after the body of a student.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy it.

Sherlock and John, quietly shuffle down the short corridor and onto the crime scene. Only one person besides themselves was in the room. He only looked in his early twenties and was pacing the ground while skimming notes, not paying any notice to his surroundings. 

Sherlock grabbed Johns wrist and dragged him towards the body but the older boy tripped over a sticking up a bit of carpet.

"Oi, what are you two boys doing here?" The policeman asked, strutting towards them.

Sherlock stood forward and observed him carefully. "I'd say this is your first Job on a case. You have no idea what's going on.  You've just left university and had toast for breakfast before you were called in unexpectedly. Im Sherlock Holmes by the way and this is John Watson."

"Im Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. You must have asked somebody what I had for breakfast, and you haven't answered my question." He said, then cautiously peered over the body. 

John shifted his feet and Sherlock spoke again.

"You're hardly a Detective Inspector yet. I could tell you had toast because of the crums and we're here to find out who murdered this student. So my friend and I need to inspect the victim."

Lestrade blinked in confusion. "Right, I'll give you five minutes and that's all."

John and Sherlock moved towards the body.

"What do you think John?" Sherlock asked a minute later.

"Oh, I'd say she was in year 7. From the look of her wounds, she was shot in her lungs." He searched a bit more. "There's some bruising on her lower arm which suggests she was manhandled. We could do a DNA test."

Sherlock was impressed. "Good John. You could be an army doctor, except you're missing an important part."

"What's that?" Both John and Lestrade asked.

"She's wearing the wrong school uniform."


	3. Which school?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock deduces more about John but hardly tells him anything in return.

Later on, Sherlock was searching for more clues. Not only about the girl, but about John and Lestrade too. John stared at him in awe.

"What you thinking about Sherlock?" He asked softly. Lestrade looked over in interest.

"Nothing much so far. This girl goes to school somewhere in Scotland, her name is Jenny Laurance and she was on a school trip to London Zoo."

"How did you...?" Lestrade started to ask bus Sherlock cut in. "Her name is on a form inside her blazer pocket. It also had the name of the school on it, I searched it up and it is a privet one in Glasgow.  She had a map of London Zoo next to it which suggests school trip. I mean she could have just had it in her pocket but the murderer wouldn't of have bothered to take her all the way to London, and the risk of getting caught is very high."

The other two were speechless for a minute or so.

"Well thank you for this information but you two need to go home or your parents will worry," Lestrade said, probably still a bit speechless.

The two teenagers wondered along the school until they came to a small playground. 

"Are you not going home now?" Sherlock asked, expecting John to leave.

John peered at his watch and sighed. "Im not allowed to be out after nine. My parents probably think I'm staying around a friends house."

"Couldn't you just sneak in?" Sherlock suggested.

"My parents notice every movement around the place. Last time I did that..." He cut himself off and shuddered. Sherlock suddenly realised.

"Oh. Um, You could stay around mine for a while. My brother doesn't really care what I do."

John smiled a little. "Thanks, but only if you're sure."

Sherlock nodded his black curls. "You have nowhere else to go. No other family members apart from your sister who you don't get along with. She has a drinking habit and your parents think she's the angel and has no idea about it. She gave you her phone that she didn't want anymore. It doesn't look like you've had a good meal for ages, and hardly any sleep as your dad keeps banging around the house at night. Obviously drunk every night. You're scared of what he might do to you. Your Mum hardly spends a penny on you and shouts at you all the time. She probably hasn't even realised you're not home. Your clothes are at least two years old and you have dark circles under your eyes. School is the only time you get freedom and you don't know what it's like to be loved..." He stopped and noticed John go ghostly white. "I'm, I'm so sorry John, I shouldn't have said that."

"It's fine. It's true. At least I didn't have to tell you." John whispered.

"You need sleep. I'll find us a cab to my place."

* * *

 

On the way, John fell asleep while crying inside. Sherlock watched him, feeling guilty and placed everything about John in his mind palace so he wouldn't delete it and make the same mistake again.

When they arrived, Sherlock shook John awake and then left the Taxi without paying, this was because his older brother sorted everything like this out.

Sherlock lead the other boy around the mansion (Or that's what John thought it was like.) going up a few staircases and found themselves on the highest floor. Opening the first door on the left, John found himself in a neat room.

"This is your room for the night and you can sleep as long as you want as it's Saturday tomorrow. My room is opposite if you want something in the night, but I might not answer. Also, I have a tendency to play the violin in the middle of the night. I told my brother Mycroft that you're here and he's going to get you some more clothes for tomorrow. Night John." Sherlock closed the door before John could protest and then retreated to his own room to look over the case of the girl in the wrong uniform."

John sighed before settling in the bed sheets. He then fell asleep properly for the first time in a long while.

 


	4. Mycroft on a saturday.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft arrives.

John woke up in an unfamiliar room. Sun was glistening through the curtains and then he remembered where he was.

In the guest room of Sherlock's house. He must have been tired. He had just slept in a strange house of a boy he had just met yesterday, not that he was complaining. Anywhere is better than a night with his family.

He slid out of bed and tiptoed out of the door, realising that Sherlock's door was open. carefully, John popped his head around and saw Sherlock with his black curls locks laying on a sofa, totally unaware that John was watching him. Or so he thought.

"You could've knocked," Sherlock said without turning his head. 

"Um, your door was open," John said.

"I know, I was the one that opened it." Sherlock stood up and stretched." I assume you're hungry?"

"No, it's fine. I don't need to eat." John said sharply as he followed Sherlock downstairs.

"Yes you do, and that's me saying that. I can tell you're hungry but you've been taught not to eat anything. You need to meet my brother anyway."

They got to the dining room and a man around twenty-three sat at the head.

"John this is Mycroft," Sherlock said while he sat down, John followed next to him hesitantly. 

Mycroft peered up from some letter that he was reading while eating a lot of pastries. "Morning John, please help yourself. Sherlock told me of your arrival last night and told me to get you some clothes. I did as he suggested but wasn't sure how much to get you."

"So he got you an entirely new wardrobe," Sherlock smirked as he drank some tea.

John looked astonished. "Thank you but you didn't need to. I'll pay you back."

Sherlock shook his head. "Of corse, I didn't need to but I was saving the trouble of you walking around London wearing rags. No point paying us back, you would never find the money."

John was silent. 

* * *

 

After breakfast, John followed Sherlock to a rather large living room. Placed on the sofa, were two big bags full of clothes.

"Go on then, try them on." Sherlock encouraged as he sat on a chair and began to read. John saw the title.  _Murder cases of the 1800s._ Slowly, he glanced inside one of the bags and sat neatly on top was a black leather jacket.

"My mum would never let me have this," John exclaimed.

"Keep it here and ware it when you come around," Sherlock replied. "Try it on then."

John did and it fit perfectly. "It's so nice, but my family would never let me keep any of this stuff."

"John, you haven't looked at the rest yet, but I'll tell Mycroft to force them not to touch you or your stuff. Anyway, you look good in that jacket" 

John blushed but ignored it and tried everything else on.

Inside the bags were five pares of jeans, a few shirts and hoodies, two pairs of trainers, some pjs a dressing gown and right at the bottom was a new phone. A NEW PHONE!

"Sherlock, did someone drop their phone in the bag?" John asked.

Sherlock dropped the book that he hadn't even started to read as he was watching John for the entire hour. "No, it's yours. Your sister's old phone was starting to go dead."

"Thank you so much," John whispered.

Sherlock smiled. "So did you want to go home now or stay for lunch?"

John looked down. "Well, I ..."

"You want to stay but you need to go home." Sherlock finished for him. John sadly nodded. "Well we could ask your family if you could stay longer but from what ive heard we won't get much of an answer. Anyway, ive put my number on your phone so we can text."

"Ok, Thank you." 

Dread was filling John with the fact of what his Dad might do to him if he found out that he said something about them to someone else. Then he remembered that he hadn't told, anyone. Sherlock found out by himself. Not that it would make any difference. They wouldn't believe him.

 

 

 

 


	5. Mr and Mrs Watson.

John held his breath when he got into the great black car that was taking him home. Sherlock put his hand on his shoulder in comfort but then pulled it away and started a conversation with Mycroft, who was sitting in the front.

When they were halfway there, stationed in the middle of Oxford street because of the heavy traffic, John turned to the boy next to him.

"What you going to do about Jennys' case?"

Sherlock turned to face him and contemplated for a while". "Find out who murdered her." He shrugged.

"You don't seem that bothered about it." John murmured.

"Of course I'm bothered. I just don't show any emotions." Sherlock retorted.

John held his gaze for a few seconds. "Do you know how it was done?"

"Poison," Sherlock answered almost before John had finished talking.

"So you're saying she was drugged?"

"Yep. She was year seven. At that age, she would do anything to impress someone older than her to show she was cool." Sherlock said while looking out the window on his side.

"It was someone at her school then. No, someone pretending to be someone at her school." John realised.

"Yep," Sherlock answered while still peering out the window.

"You're thinking of something else," John stated.

"No"

John carefully pulled Sherlock around by his shoulder. "It wasn't a question."

"I'd rather not talk about it, John. "He said, his voice cracking slightly.

The rest of the car journey was driven in silence, except for the occasional phone call for Mycroft.

Once they arrived, John went ghostly white and froze. Sherlock went to Johns door and opened it for him.

"John it's not the end of the world, just probably the end of your dreamless sleep." 

John sighed. "Thanks for that Sherlock. Not that I sleep anyway."

Mycroft knocked on the door, followed by a lot of banging and shouting. The wood that blocked the outside world out, opened. A woman around forty stood with a glass of wine in one hand and held her door with the other. She had dirty blonde hair that was stuck in a messy bun and her ruby lipstick placed neatly on her lips. Sherlock had deduced every inch of her and was almost reluctant to go anywhere near her before he remembered he was here for John. 

"What do you want?" She rudely slurred.

Mycroft straightened his Jacket before speaking. "I'm Mycroft Homes. I am here to speak to you about your son."

Mrs Watson staggered back a bit and frowned. "My what?" Sherlock looked at John who was slightly hiding behind him. "Oh, that idiot. What about him?"

John flinched and Sherlock put his hand in his just to show that he was there."

"I'm concerned by his welfare Mrs Watson." Mycroft carried on as if she hadn't spoken at all.

"Oh yeah. Well, his welfare is completely fine. What has that lying toe-rag said to you uh? I'll get my husband, he knows how to deal with that little..." She muttered the last word under her breath while she turned away to find Mr Watson.

Mycroft turned to John. "John, I didn't know it was that bad. You could stay with us if you would rather."

Sherlock leaned closer to Johns' ear. "That basically means that he is awfully sorry and would do anything to help you."

"Um thank you, but I need to deal with this on my own for a while," John answered quietly.

Sherlock looked uncertain. "Only if you're sure, but you could always text me if you needed to get away. Anyway, you need to help me with my case."

Before John could reply, a man who was obviously his father came to the door. "John, go to you're room now. I'll deal with you later." John made to leave but Mycroft held his hand out to stop him.

"What exactly are you going to do to him?" Mycroft questioned. Mr Watson, who was as drunk as anything came squaring up to him.

"What does it matter to you what I do to him?" 

"I have Johns' life in my best interest," Mycroft said through gritted teeth. Seeing that he couldn't provoke Mycroft any longer, he turned to Sherlock.

"What about you curly? Have some beer on me and stay away from this sorry excuse for a son." 

Sherlock stood there without changing his expression. "I'm so sorry Mr Watson, but I'm afraid I can't do that. In fact, we're leaving and John is coming too." He turned towards the car, dragging John with him. "I'm sorry John. If I was there another second, I would've punched him in his face."

John had tears in his eyes. "It's fine."

"No, it's not. It's never fine. Even I know that." Sherlock said while putting his arm around him.

"What do you mean?" John whispered.

"When people say they're fine, it usually means they have a pit of darkness inside but they can't let it out. It means you feel like you can deal with it on your own, but you can't. You need someone else to help you along, no matter how much it takes. Im proud to call you my first friend John but the reason you have friends is so you can tell them everything that is slowly bringing you down. It's ok to cry. It shows that you're strong."

John broke down there and then. By then, Mycroft had come back from dealing with Mr Watson as calmly as physically possible. He made eye contact to see if John was ok but Sherlock gave him a dirty look as if saying 'Do you think he's ok.' 

Once Johns' eyes were clear from tears he looked at Sherlock. "Thank you."

Sherlock gave a small smile. "You're welcome. Anyway, now its easier for you to help me with the case."

"Definitely." 

Both boys grinned as they ride back to the Holmes Manor proceeded. 


	6. Sherlock thinks things out.

When the car drove up to the door of the Holmes manor, Mycroft, Sherlock and John sauntered into the living room. John sat in an armchair, leaning forward and staring into space. Mycroft peered at him in concern but sat down and started reading another newspaper. Sherlock, on the other hand, was pacing the floor, half worrying about John and half trying to solve the case.

About an hour later, Mycroft walked off without disturbing the other two. Another half hour later, Sherlock stopped abruptly and clapped his hands together excitedly. He went over to John, who was still daydreaming and tapped him on the shoulder.

“John, have you stopped feeling sorry for yourselves yet?” He asked impatiently.

John came out of his trance. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

Sherlock shrugged. “No, it's fine. I needed the quiet to think anyway. So, I’ve figured that we’ve got it all wrong.”

“What do you mean?” John asked while sitting up straight.”

Sherlock started pacing again. “Well, it wasn’t another student. It was the bus driver.” He saw Johns confused look and he rolled his eyes. “Big school trip to London, of course, they’re going to need a coach. The teachers automatically think the driver has been CRB checked, but not this one. I think the driver oversaw the medicine and maybe Jenny needed a tablet, she would automatically trust him. Once she had taken it, it had already started to poison her, making her weak. He had a gun, but it was silent enough without anyone hearing, he took his chance and killed squarely in the lungs and stuffed her in the boot.” Sherlocked mimed as he spoke.

“But how didn’t the teachers notice?” John questioned.

“Easy,” Sherlock answered. “The bus driver said they were all ready, and do you want to know how she ended up here?”

John nodded.

“On Thursday, some people in your year went on the same trip on the same coach. Obviously, he dropped her off here too, thinking she was one of ours.” Sherlock finished this by dramatically falling on the sofa.

There was a moment of silence.

“That’s absolutely brilliant, but why did he kill her?” John asked.

Sherlock shrugged again. “Why does anyone do anything. But that’s not the question John. The to be or not to be question is, where is he now?” He stood up again, his eyes beaming.

“Amazing,” John said in awe.

Sherlock laughed a bit. “I’m not that good. So, what were you thinking about then?”

“No Sherlock, I do mean it when I say you’re amazing,” John said, totally ignoring Sherlocks question.

“It's fine if you don’t want to talk about it. Anyhow seeing as you’re staying here, shall we ask Mycroft to order things for your room?” Sherlock queried.

“I’m not staying long, though am I? I still need to go back.” John said.

“John, you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. You can stay here as much or little as you’d like, but Mycroft might need to speak to social services about them.”

“I want to stay, but they’ll take you and Mycroft to court for something as absurd as abduction,” John said.

Sherlock snorted. “Against Mycroft. Mycroft basically owns court.” His face went serious. “They didn’t hurt you or anything did they?”

John hesitated for a second but snapped out at the other boy. “Of course not, why would you even think that.” He stopped. “Sherlock I’m sorry. It’s just. Never mind.”

Sherlock but his hand on Johns' shoulder. “It’s fine John. But you know you can tell me and Mycroft with anything.”

John nodded and thought for another second. “I’ve only known you and Mycroft for like a day and yet I trust you with my life. It’s odd.”

Sherlock smiled a bit. “It’ll be time for dinner soon. Shall we go and figure out what objects you want for your room?”

“Yeah, ok then.”

They went up to Johns’ make do room and stood in the middle.

“So, any thoughts?” Sherlock asked.

“Not really,” John replied.

“Ok…um…so what’s your favourite two colours?” Sherlock questioned.

“Oh um… a mix between blue and green and grey.” He stared at Sherlock. “A bit like your eyes.”

Sherlock turned away from John, trying not to let him see the slight blush that appeared on his cheekbones. “So, they can be the colour of the walls and the curtains. So, what about your favourite hobby or favourite singer or something.”

John rolled his eyes while smiling. “You’re trying really hard at this aren’t you. Um… I don’t have any hobbies except wanting to be a Doctor. As for bands and things, I don’t know many.”

Sherlock sighed. “I suppose you don’t. I know. Greyish blue walls, Purpleheart wood furniture, and a nice light blue for your bed sheets.”

John gaped at him. “Purple heartwood! Isn’t that like the most expensive type of wood ever.”

“John, you forget whose house this is.” Sherlock grinned. “Anyway, let's go down to dinner, you need food and I need to think more about the case.”


	7. Who murdered her?

Sherlock was pacing in his room, looking down and not being aware of his surroundings. After a few minutes, he sighed, picked up his violin and started playing, and playing and playing until John knocked on his door. He paused for a second but carried on. John came in and sat on his bed. Sherlock estimated that John had sat there for an hour so he stopped and placed his violin down.

"Is there anything you can't do?" John asked while Sherlock sat down next to him. 

Totally ignoring the question, the taller boy lay down in his thinking pose. "There must be a reason why you came in." He stated.

"Are you going to get ready for school tomorrow. Also, get some sleep." John said softly.

"Tomorrow?" Sherlocked questioned.

"You've been playing all night. What were you thinking about."

"Nothing much. I was trying to clear my mind. Obviously, it took longer than I thought."

John got up to go. "I'll come back when you've had sleep." He turned and looked at him." Did you want anything?"   
Their eyes met and Sherlock smiled a bit before looking away. "No thank you, John." He picked up a book and pretended to start reading. John left and went across to his room, which already had some of the new decorations put into it. He started packing his school bags until he thought of something. He went to Sherlock's room and peered in, but he was fast asleep. He watched him for a few moments before retreating and climbed downstairs to find Mycroft.

He found Sherlock's brother writing on his computer.

"What may I assist you with John?" Mycroft asked him without looking up.

"Well I was just thinking about the case and I wondered something," John said. Mycroft nodded to tell John to carry on. "Sherlock thinks it was the bus driver that killed her but with the trip coming all the way from Scotland, there must have been another person to relieve him if he gets tired. Apparently, when they were going home, the other person got off the bus when he dropped Jenny off at my school."

"Seems reasonable enough. How did you think of this idea?" Mycroft questioned.

"Well I told Sherlock to get some sleep and it just came to me," John answered.

"Mycroft nodded again. "Ok. I will look over this, in the meantime, you should go and check on Sherlock. Come back in a few hours."  
And with that, John left the room to go and check on his friend.


	8. portrait.

John entered Sherlock's room again to see if the boy was still asleep. He was. Just as he was about to leave, he saw a blank piece of paper and a pen on the floor and he picked them up. Grabbing a chair, he sat down next to his friend and started sketching the sleeping form. 

Just as he finished, Sherlock stirred a bit. "Wha are you, doin John?" He asked sleepily not yet opening his eyes.

"Nothing," John said quickly while screwing up the drawing and throwing it in the corner.

"Honestly though, what are you doing watching me sleep," Sherlock asked again, now sitting up and peering suspiciously at the other boy."I heard you screwing up a bit of paper. Where is it?"

"I was just watching. I don't have a bit of paper on me." John defended himself. How could he be so stupid by drawing Sherlock? It wasn't any good anyway.

"Of course you don't have it on you. You threw it over there" Sherlock pointed to the corner. "I'm not stupid John."

The younger boy stormed to the bit of screwed up paper and opened it up. He couldn't believe what he saw. "Did you do this?"

John sighed. "I know, it's rubbish. Doesn't even look like you."

"John, it's beautiful. Why the hell did you screw it up?" Sherlock asked. "You got everything almost perfect, except I don't have freckles."

John smiled slightly. "Sherlock you do have freckles."

"No, I don't." He put the drawing under his pillow. "You must have had a real reason in which you are here. Apart from the thing you stupidly refuse to admit you're good at."

"What staring at you?" John asked jokingly.

"You know what I mean John. I don't have all day, get to it."  Sherlock said as he started pacing. 

John started telling the other boy his theory adding little bits into it.

"Seems reasonable enough. Any Idea who it is?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, no. But I was hoping the police would find out or something." John explained.

"Good luck with trying that. No point. We'll talk to Lestrade tomorrow. Maybe we should introduce Mycroft to him while we're at it." Sherlock said, more to himself than to John. "And don't bother with school tomorrow. We need to do some investigating. School is unimportant at the moment."

"Sherlock, I need to revise for my GCSEs," John said.

"I'll get Mycroft to get you a tutor," Sherlock said, getting annoyed.

"Ok then. We need to go and do stuff." John stated and started walking out of the room.

Sherlock started to follow. "Stuff like what?"

"I haven't made up my mind yet," John answered. 

"Shall we start with solving the case?" Sherlock suggested impatiently. 

"Ok," John replied after a pause.

 

 

 

 


	9. <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wakes up...

John woke up to his alarm and sighed heavily. It took him a good half hour to get out of his bed, and another twenty minutes to get his clothes on. Secretly he was glad that he wasn't going to school today. The sixteen-year-old stepped outside his room and stopped outside Sherlock's door, contemplating whether to knock or just go downstairs to breakfast. Before he could decide, the door opened and Sherlock stood there with his dark curly locks and still half asleep. The older boys chest tightened. 

"John, why were you standing outside my door for five minutes?" Sherlock Questioned.

The blonde panicked. "I...It wasn't for five minutes. It was barely five seconds."

The younger boy Smirked. "So you're admitting you were standing outside my door."

John mentally kicked himself. "Well, should we get food?"

Sherlock shook his head. "No, I might go back to bed. You can come in and watch me if you want." He winked, stepped inside and closed the door.

John realised he was holding his breath. "That Bastard." And walked after his friend. Sherlock was sitting in the middle of the floor, topless and surrounded by hundreds of notes. "You did that on purpose just to get me in here"

Sherlock looked up innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm sure you don't Sherlock Holmes." He found a place to sit down, next to his friend. "So you've been up all night again trying to solve it," John stated.

The dark-haired boy nodded. "Yep. Ive got it down to two suspects. Steven larkinson and Jeremy brett."

"And how do you know that?" John asked.

Sherlock sighed. "Well, they are both on duty at that time and both were taking a Scottish school to London. Both also stayed in London but one is our murderer and one has just stolen ten thousand pounds from a bank. The only problem is, this case is harder then I thought. Normally I can solve one within a few hours."

"Yes, but this is quicker then even the professionals can do it. You are one truly amazing person Sherlock."

They locked eyes for a second and for that moment, the entire world seemed to disappear.

"John?" Sherlock whispered. "I know I've only known you for a few days, but can I just do something?"

The other boy couldn't speak but he nodded. Sherlock didn't do anything for a while but then he leaned forward and softly put his lips to Johns's cheek. 

John grinned. "Sherlock Holmes you pretty Git. Come on, let's go and solve this blasted crime."

Sherlock grinned and dragged John downstairs to the living room. The younger boy entered but then quickly retreated. "MYCROFT, IF YOU DO INSIST ON KISSING LESTRADE THEN PLEASE DO IT SOMEWHERE MORE PRIVET. I SHOULDN'T BE SEEING THIS STUFF. IM AN INNOCENT TEENAGER." Sherlock started to walk away but stuck his head through the door again. "And Lestrade, I have more information about the case. Please find John and me when you get bored of my brother's hostility."

Both boys were now outside in the Gardens and they burst out laughing. 

"You, innocent?"

"Im a Drama queen John. You should know that by now." Sherlock said seriously. 

The older boy shoved Sherlock playfully on the arm." Ok. Now tell me a little bit about the suspects."

"Well, Steven larkinson was originally from London but moved up north around three months ago. He is around twenty-seven and has a smoking habit.  Larkinson isn't a qualified bus driver but has a licence. No criminal record, no relatives except for a second cousin called Jenny Laurance." Sherlock explained.

"So he knew her?" John asked.

"Not at all. He knew nothing of her. If only we had witnesses or even the bloody number plate. Well, next we have Jeremy Brett. Thirty-four years old. Has lung cancer and Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis..."

"Which is?" John asked.

"It’s a neurological disease that destroys those nerves that are responsible for the transmission of messages from the brain to the body. It deteriorates a body from performing day to day functions like eating and breathing. It kills you very slowly, but he is only in the early stages of it. He will die never the less. He is a bus driver but his licence will be taken away in a few years. He knows this so he'll probably want to take his...Wait. JOHN I HAVE IT. Get Lestrade, tell him all I've said about Brett. Meet me at Victoria coach station in half an hour." Sherlock punched the air in excitement.

"So he's the murderer," John asked.

"Yes, he is. and he is at the current coach station. The game John Watson is on."

They left their separate ways.

 

 

 


	10. Deserted coach station PART 1

Sherlock went around the corner of the Victoria coach station and it was completely deserted. Just some rundown busses and a rotted chair right in the middle of it all.

"This isn't right, it was heaving yesterday. He must know I was coming." He muttered under his breath. slowly, he wandered around a bit, trying to be as discreet as possible.

There was a clang of what sounded like a spanner. The noise was melancholy and echoed around the empty walls, it was followed by a set of footsteps. No two pares.

"I come alone," Sherlock spoke out.

A man came out of the shadows. But to Sherlock's horror, it wasn't a man. It was John, his face full of panic and the way he kept glancing to the left, the younger boy knew that his friend was being held at gunpoint.

"John, is everything ok?" Sherlock asked. He knew it was a stupid question but the answer would determine if it was ok to make a move.

The older boy looked behind Sherlock and his face turned ghostly white. "Sherlock, get down." He shouted.

Everything sped up in the younger boys head. He had miscalculated the number of people in the room. A gun pointed at John and one pointed at him. It fired so there's only a matter of time left. By the sound of it, its a super Redhawk. The bullet would go straight through me and hit John. It would kill us both. If I get down, I would catch the bad guys and save John.

As if no time went at all, the bullet flew over Sherlock's head and hit John squarely in the shoulder.

 


	11. Deserted coach station PART 2

For a split second, Sherlock watched the other boy fall to the ground like a soldier. It took him all his strength not to run up to him but he held back and instead swung himself around and punched the gunman behind him in the jaw. There was a loud crack, so obviously it had dislocated. Satisfied, Sherlock turned back around and dodged a blow from the other man. He pinned him to the ground and held him there with his foot.

"You're cleaver Jeremy Brett but you're an idiot. You shouldn't have hurt my John Watson." Sherlock said through gritted teeth.

The man laughed uncertainly. "And you're becoming sentimental Mr. Holmes. Moriarty won't be pleased."

"Moriarty?" Sherlock questioned.

"Yes, James Moriarty. He has a son about your age. Jim's a nice boy." Brett said. He suddenly smiled suspiciously.

Before Sherlock could say anything about, a few police cars and an ambulance parked in the station and people were rushing around everywhere. Paramedics located John and put him on a stretcher. Everything in that moment was a haze and all Sherlock could remember was someone pulling him back and brought into a car. Not a police car. Probably one of Mycroft's. The next thing he remembered was laying on a sofa and he saw Mycroft sitting in the chair opposite, reading the paper.

"Mycroft, how long have I been out for?" Sherlock sat up, suddenly realizing. "Wait, how was I even unconscious in the first place, nothing happened to me. Hows John, is he ok?"

Mycroft sighed and placed his paper down. "You've been out of around six hours, Mr. Brett thought it was a good idea to inject you with melatonin. Thankfully not enough to kill you, but quite a lot to make you pass out almost instantly. The hospital called me an hour ago and told me that John was in a critical but stable condition, but that is only to be expected. He had surgery, but it took quite a bit to take the bullet out and he lost a lot of blood so he should be fine."

"Can we go to see him?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"Brother dear, you need rest," Mycroft answered, going back to his paper.

Sherlocked groaned. "Mycroft, I've just had six hours rest. I won't rest until I've seen him and I promise to  sleep after I see him."

Knowing he lost the argument, Mycroft stood up and walked out of the room. Sherlock grinned and sped behind him and into the car.

"Something that does interest me in brother, is what exactly did Brett say to you?" Mycroft questioned.

Sherlock looked out the window. "Oh, you know. The usual rubbish. He said something about a name called Moriarty but that's the only useful thing he said."

Mycroft thought about it for a minute but shrugged his suspicions off and kept quiet. Both brothers were silent for the rest of the way.

* * *

 

The car drew up to the main entrance and the Holmeses stepped out. Mycroft seemed to know where he was going and nobody stopped him walk into the private room in which John was.

He was awake but ghostly pale and barely smiled when he saw Sherlock.

The younger Holmes brother went to him and sat down in the visitor's chair. Mycroft coughed and went out of the room, leaving the two teens alone.

Sherlock took Johns's hand and rubbed circles on it with his thumb.

John breathed deeply. "I wondered when you would come. I heard you got knocked out by that douche bag."

Sherlock smiled sadly. "I would've come by sooner. I could've prevented you from getting shot. I knew it was going to happen."

"Yes, but you knew a second before it was going to happen. You're brilliant love, but not even you could've stopped it from happening." John said softly.

"B-but you could've died. I could've lost you, John. My first best friend. "Sherlock sighed and had a tear in his eye. "My first love."

John grinned but he also had tears in his eyes. "I love you too you great sop. I promise I won't die."

The door opened. "Oh, that's nice. Sherlock Holmes has turned my son gay." The unmistakable of Mrs. Watson said. "Why couldn't you be normal like Harry."

Sherlock couldn't help himself. That woman made him sick. "You do realize Mrs. Watson that Harriet has a girlfriend. Remember Clara."

"How dare you say something like that to me. Clara and Harry have been best friends since the beginning." Mrs. Watson nearly shouted.

"She was scared of your reaction. That's why she never told you." Sherlock said. "She never even told John. Just in case you were listening. There are plenty of people who can't show their real identity because of how everyone else reacts. It was only the Victorians that said being Homosexual was a bad thing. Before that, it was a normal thing and it's taking this long for people to realize that it's not bad."

Mrs. Watson had turned bright red and not because of the alcohol. "That is a load of rubbish. I'm taking my son home as soon as he is out of this place and he is forbidden to speak to you again."

"Doesn't John get a say in this?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm his mother."

"He's sixteen."

"I'm still here and I'm never setting foot into that house again. " John spoke up. His voice was slightly croaky from the tears and not having much to drink. "I'm never going to be hurt by dad or shouted abuse by you. I'm not going to sit in the corner like some ornament that you forgot about. I'm not some broken toy that you can kick about or something to throw beer bottles at. I'm not your son. You've never had a son and I hope Harry will have the sense to get out from your poison while she still can. Now get out of this hospital."

She stood there for a second before turning her nose up and storming out of the room.

Sherlock kissed John's hand. "So your dad did hurt you then." It was a statement more than a question but John nodded.

"You don't have to tell me John, but I'm here if you want to." 

John nodded again. "At least we solved the case."

"Yep. It was worth all this in the end. I've got you. Forever?" Sherlock asked.

"Forever." John agreed.

 


End file.
